


Clair De Lune

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But only a little, Classical Music, Debussy, Gen, M/M, Piano, Slash, if the Master had gone with the Doctor after LotTL (but still looked the same after regenerating)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You didn't tell me you owned a piano."</p><p>OR</p><p>In which the Master rediscovers his love of classical music.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clair De Lune

When the Doctor woke up, the bed was cold.

He sat up with a start. The room was empty. Cold fear gripped his heart as he made his way out of his ( _their_ ) room. Mentally calling our to the TARDIS, he asked her where the Master was. Her only reply was to nudge him in the direction of one of the abandoned ballrooms. In confusion, the Doctor made his way through the TARDIS until he found the right door. 

_What on earth was the Master doing in a ballroom?_

Stepping out onto the (very dusty) dance floor, the Doctor remembered days of Gallifreyan music, Time Lords swinging around the room, the buzz of their minds against his. Speaking of minds, where  _was_ he? The Doctor could sense him, the gentle brush against his mind (and how he's missed that brush, he's been alone for so long that just a single brush fills him with a sense of security, a sense of love, a sense of  _home)._ The Master telepathically dragged him across the abandoned dancefloor and up an abandoned staircase, where he glanced up to see-

"You didn't tell me you owned a piano."

The Master stood on the balcony, his eyes fixed determinedly on the Doctor.

"What?" The Doctor had never felt more confused in his life, even as his eyes landed on the Gallifreyan grand, which, considering it's age, still retained it's ethereal beauty extremely well. "How is this relevant? What are you doing here, Master? Come back to bed. You haven't slept in days. Surely you're tired by now?"

"I tried sleeping," the Master's tone told him nothing. "The drums were bothering me, so I got up and took a walk. Your TARDIS led me here. I think she has a better memory than you."

"Oh!" Realisation dawned on the Doctor as he remembered their Academy days (he doesn't tend to think of Theta often, probably because what they had then was perfect but he just had to go throw it away, didn't he?), days when he would rest his head on Koschei's shoulder as the other Time Lord's fingers glided across ivory keys. "Can you still play?"

The Master gave him a withering look (he was so good at those, often the Doctor wondered how long he'd spent in front of a mirror perfecting that look). "No Doctor, I've had complete amnesia from my last regeneration and don't know what a piano _is,_ " he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes for effect.

"Oh. Sorry to hear about that," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Well, if you happen to remember even the slightest smidgen, would you mind playing something for me?"

The Master rolled his eyes again ( _Rassilon,_ the Doctor could be such an idiot sometimes, of  _course_ he was going to play something, his fingers had been itching ever since he'd laid eyes on the grand) and seated himself at the piano. He closed his eyes, mentally recalling each and every note before he began.

The Doctor watched (and listened) as the Master played, allowing it to seep into his mind and touch every corner of his soul (the Master had always had a way with notes, a way of commanding him to his very will). He smiled slightly. Claude Debussy had always been a favourite of his. He'd even _met_ the man, once, many regenerations ago. He closed his eyes, allowing the music to take him away. The Master had long since lost his connection to the real world, immersed in the piece he was playing. Other than the Doctor, music was the only thing he's ever  _truly_ loved (Of course it's second to the Doctor though,  _everything_ is second to the Doctor. The Doctor comes first, always does, always did and always will). As a child, to escape his oppressing family, he'd sneak into  _their_ ballroom and seat himself at the piano and just  _play._ Play until his fingers ached, til all the notes blended together on the page, all the C minor arpeggios and trills became one and the same in his mind, play until he could no longer hear anything but the  _music._

As the Master reached the final few arpeggios of the piece, the Doctor was also deep in thought. There was something different about the piece, something slightly more sharp about some notes, some bars bit rougher than they had been when Koschei had first played the piece. Whereas Koschei had played it with a sort of childish innocence, there was something much more  _dark_ about the way the Master played it. On the other hand, a lot had changed between them since Koschei had first played the piece. A lot had changed, in general.

The Doctor was so deep in thought he barely even noticed the Master finish the piece and stand up. However, what he  _did_ notice were the Master's arms wrapping around him from behind gently. The Doctor let out a slight sigh and melted into the embrace, content to be simply held by someone. The Master was only too happy to oblige. It was a long time before any of them spoke. _  
_

"Does it help? With the drums?" The Doctor asked carefully, not wanting to spoil the moment. The Master only tightened his hold before replying.

"Sometimes. It quietens them. But only for a little while." The Doctor considered his words over for a moment.

"Is it enough?"

"Usually." The Master seemed tense all of a sudden.

"Master, let me help you." The old argument. The Master let go of him abruptly. He was spun around to meet (unusually) fierce eyes.

"Don't you understand? You  _are_ helping me. Just by being here. By being  _you._   _You're_ the best cure for the drums. When you're around, they go away, or they at least quiet down. Yes, there are many other ways for me to get them to shut up, but you're by far the most effective. Just stay, and by that, you are helping me  _so_ much more than you could possibly imagine."

 _That_ shut the Doctor up."Oh," he murmured, subdued. He glanced at the Master, only to realise their faces were now only mere centimetres apart. The Master quickly closed the gap, pressing a gentle kiss to the Doctor's mouth.The Doctor melted into the kiss peacefully, falling into a centuries old routine. They stayed like that for minute, before the Doctor pulled away. 

"Come on, Master," he said softly. "Back to bed now.  _Allons-y._ "

" _Molto bene_ ," was the only reply, but it was all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I just think that if Koschei had ever learned an Earth instrument, it would have been the piano.


End file.
